I say it frequently:
“Ohhhhh to live in my head.
A fun place to visit,
But not a great place to live.”
Thoughts race in disorganized flight,
And have too few landing strips.
Clarity at times is fleeting,
Appearing primarily in blips.
My next steps are covered,
By the stretched shadows of blind leaps.
And open graves are created,
For my regret to sleep.
On other occasions it’s orderly inside,
Rapid thoughts are flying straight.
With only short necessary landings,
To connect easily at different gates.
New information is absorbed,
And it’s applied in my active life.
My decisions stand a fighting chance,
Of being well thought out and right.
The two do hang together,
Meeting at conventions and “Pub Brain”.
Strategizing, with one group dominant,
The Insanes versus the Sanes.
Attempting to consider today, the events of tomorrow.
Allowing the many joys in life to be overshadowed by sorrow.
Memories so powerful they haunt and control.
Life’s contradictions challenging the truth we know.
Condemnation inflicted by times past.
Getting what we want, not wanting what we have.
The road we are on and the road we need to find.
The transition to, existence, and mystery of the afterlife.
The whispers in life that the wind swiftly carries.
The tide that’s controlled by the moon as it varies.
The sands that are traveled day in and day out.
Feelings of despair and feelings of doubt.
Webs, unwillingly embraced by silken wings.
The music of the raindrops as they rhythmically sing.
The sound of a train as it comes to a halt.
The instinctive way a heart beats when it knows it is at fault.
Dangers present, yet undiscovered by the mind.
The small ticking sound we’ve given to majestic time.
Our stream of thoughts, interrupted.
Our vision of morals, corrupted.
Flowers that bloom only in the dark of night.
A sunset, still beautiful after a gruesome fight.
The tears that fall with joy in the heart.
A human spirit broken, yet not fallen apart.
The masterpiece in art by the stroke of a brush.
The way we all have time, yet still we all will rush…
Written back in the day when I was 17, with some revision.
It is about perspective, our world view,
Influencing what we accept as true,
Reality, child of our believing,
With passivity we adopt meaning,
Self-centered focus sets reason askew.
Without questioning data we accrue,
Falsity and deception may ensue,
We are hindered by not truly seeing,
It is about perspective.
Looking at your canvas, upon review,
You will see the colors chosen FOR you,
Will your world be painted while you’re dreaming,
Or with eyes open, your view be freeing?
Cognizance of our thoughts is overdue,
It is about perspective…
This is my first attempt at writing a Rondeau. Inspired by “Cubby” http://reowr.wordpress.com/, who has introduced me to some fun challenges. This particular style was difficult for me. I suspect that is because I tried to fit such a multifaceted topic into a the confines of a small box! I’m hoping it makes sense! Thanks for reading!